


Still Afloat

by RichieBrook



Series: This Is Your Life [2]
Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-06 00:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichieBrook/pseuds/RichieBrook
Summary: “We’ll be all over the internet within a few minutes if you keep doing that,” Miles warns him, and Alex shrugs.“Like old times, then,” he says. “I can handle it. Can you?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a very self-indulgent two-parter that I really, really felt like writing. It took me about a month and a dozen versions and I'm still not all too happy with how it turned out, but basically, it ended up being a mediocre hurt/comfort, fluffy, train of thought, character study kind of situation. I hope you enjoy it despite all that! Also, this is a sequel to [a one shot I wrote](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15299970), which is why I've made it part of a series, but I don't think reading that is necessary for this one. 
> 
> (A few side notes: This wasn’t based on any timeline or AM tour because I have no clue about timelines. I’m sorry if that’s distracting! What it comes down to is that I wanted to write about Dublin, so it’s set in Dublin. Also, I’m not a native English speaker and this story is unbeta’d, but I was about 505 times more sober whilst writing this than I was when I wrote the previous part, so maybe that’s a good sign? Who knows. I don’t. What I’m trying to say is that feedback is very much appreciated, so please feel free to let me know if you spot any mistakes or what have you. I’d really appreciate it! (: Enjoy!)

Miles thinks Dublin is a pretty town even when it’s raining. Alex, at this point, would very much prefer not to think for a bit. Miles suggests they go outside, see some sights, get some fresh air, go to a pub. Alex reckons he should humour him, but he can’t bring himself to say anything. He’s propped up against the headboard of their shared hotel room bed, watching Miles pace back and forth, restless and energetic as always. If today were anything like the old days, Alex would feed off that energy, let himself be launched into whatever plan for the day is on Miles’ mind, no questions asked. But today isn’t one of those days. Alex blinks. It feels as if everything’s moving in slow motion. He has trouble even focussing his gaze on Miles and he wishes he weren’t as sober as he is. At least with alcohol in his system he would have had something to blame the fog in his head on. There’s been so much of it lately and all he wants is to just snap out of it. The very last show of the Arctic Monkeys tour will take place tonight. He’s terrified.

  
“How do you still have the energy to go outside?” he wonders out loud, and his own voice sounds like it’s coming from miles away. He’s not just asking because he would rather just stay in their hotel room. Miles is white as a sheet, despite all the LA sun he’s presumably been getting at home. All the sun he _was_ getting until he flew across half the world for Alex, that is. He arrived in Rome late last night, just in time to watch the Monkeys gig, stayed up with Alex all night after that, and flew to Dublin with the band early the next morning, to be there with Alex for their very last gig. No one has ever flown across the entire bloody world for Alex before and he wishes it would have stayed that way. He’s not worth it.

He watches Miles pace back and forth, looking like a caged animal, and feels guilt churn in the pit of his stomach. Last night in Rome, he felt almost grateful for that feeling, which showed itself after he realised Miles had really let everything drop to travel all the way to Rome for him; after he realised how worried Miles has been about him. Even guilt was a welcome feeling after having felt so empty for so long. Today however, he just wishes Miles would go back home to look after himself, rather than to stay here and look after Alex instead. The last gig of the tour, the Dublin gig that will take place tonight, won’t kill him. He's done it so many times before and he's _good_ at it. He’ll be alright.

  
Miles stops in his tracks, right in front of the bed. “You still look kind of out of it, Al,” he says in that observing kind of tone, and Alex likes that Miles always says what’s on his mind, but he bloody well knows what he looks like himself, doesn’t he. He knows how he looks and he knows how he feels and putting it into words isn’t going to make it go away. He arches an eyebrow, challenging Miles to go on, and Miles being Miles, he does.  
“I mean, I know this isn’t going to – “ He makes a vague gesture with his hand – “just go away, and I know you don’t want to go outside, but locking yourself up in hotel room after hotel room can’t be doing you any favours, right? Let’s just go for a short walk. That’s all I’m asking for. A stroll in the park with my favourite person. Come on, Al. I’ve been to Dublin lots of times, I know the way, you won’t even have to think about it. Some fresh air will do you good.”

  
Alex has never been able to resist those eyes and that friendly glint in them. Whether he feels guilty about worrying Miles enough to make him come all this way or not, Miles is here now. He might as well accept it. He can’t exactly deny that Miles' presence is making things a little better. He won’t be able to protect Alex against the fog, but it’s enough that he’s there, for Alex to reach to through that fog instead.

  
“Fine, let’s go out,” he decides. It’s the least he can do. Without giving himself any more time to consider his options, he scrambles out of bed, dons his jacket and slips on his loafers. The trick is to do it quickly. Like pulling off a plaster. That’s how everything works nowadays. Meet and greets, interviews, even live shows. He’s out in the hallway before Miles is. Alex knows him well enough by now to realise that the smile the man gives him when he locks their door isn’t all too genuine. Miles is onto him, he always is. He gives Alex’ shoulder an encouraging squeeze, and then they’re off, Miles with dark rings under his eyes and Alex looking like he’s been drinking the night away. They must make quite the pair.

  
Despite the dreary weather, Miles leads them to Phoenix Park, holding a large umbrella over both their heads. Everything smells of rain and green grass and trees, and Alex tries to breathe in deeply without Miles noticing. He’s insufferable when he knows he’s right. Miles buys them coffees at the Tea Rooms, a quaint little thing in the midst of all that greenery, and they set out to explore the grounds, Alex following closely in Miles’ footsteps. He listens attentively as Miles rambles about how they might spot a few deer along the way, and about how he doesn’t mind the rain, and about the pub he’d like to visit later, ‘only if you’re up for it of course, Al’.  
Alex has trouble keeping his eyes open and keeping his attention fixed on his surroundings, but Miles’ enthusiasm and talkativeness make him smile through the haze. It’s a rather noticeable difference between the two of them, that. Alex is much less outgoing, much less talkative. He might smile secretly when he’s excited about something, whereas Miles will break into a grin and voice whatever it is that’s on his mind at that moment. Miles is straightforward and honest. It’s one of the things Alex likes about him most. It makes it comfortable to be around him.

  
When Miles starts telling him about the time he almost fell into the River Liffey after a gig and a drunken night out in the town (‘You should have seen how pitch black and wild and ridiculous the water was, I would have bloody frozen to death, Al, I’m not even kidding. You would have never seen me pretty face again’), Alex reaches for his hand and bumps their shoulders together playfully. It’s a thank-you of sorts. He’s painfully aware that Miles is talking as much as he is mostly for his benefit; that he’s doing all these things like buying him coffee and dragging him to a park when he himself is running on not even a few hours of sleep, mostly for Alex. All because Alex hasn’t been feeling like himself lately. It should probably make him feel good to know that Miles cares about him so much, but - “I’ll pay you back for your flight from LA. And for the flight from Rome to Dublin, obviously,” he blurts out, rudely interrupting the story about the river. Miles just gives him a shake of his head and a “Don’t be ridiculous,” and launches back into his story. It’s a good story, but Alex can’t seem to focus on it. He frowns. He should do something. Buy Miles a drink, get him a gift, write him a song, write him an entire bloody album. He nearly throws up at the mere idea. Instead, he just takes a tighter hold of Miles’ hand. It’s more for his own benefit than for Miles’, but it’s the thought that counts.  
“We’ll be all over the internet within a few minutes if you keep doing that,” Miles warns him, and Alex shrugs.  
“Like old times, then,” he says. “I can handle it. Can you?” The way in which he says it makes it sound like he’s posing a challenge; like he’s testing Miles. It’s too late to take it back once he realises it. He’s not in the mood to open that can of worms again, but Miles cocks a brow and, well, there it goes.  
“I’m not the one who ended things between us by kicking me out of his house, back in LA,” he says, his voice oddly calm. There’s no trace of a smile on his lips, but his grip on Alex’ hand doesn’t falter. He’s still upset, despite Alex extensive apology from the night before. Alex doesn’t mind. He has every right to be upset. Alex _did_ kick him out, after all. It happened months and months ago, before there was any sign of that fog that is now occupying most of his brain.  
“I didn’t kick you out over that,” he says, as if it’s obvious. “I kicked you out because I got nervous about it all. I told you that last night. There’s a difference between kicking you out because I got nervous that I might have to buy me a wedding dress sooner rather than later and kicking you out because there was always the possibility that we'd end up on the front page of the Daily Mail. Couldn’t care less about the latter.” He pauses, pretends to consider it. “Maybe we should make that happen, the front page thing. Would that convince you I’m serious about you?” Because he is. God, he is. Miles has no idea what he’s getting himself into.  
A dry laugh escapes Miles’ throat. “Oh, shut up, would you. You still kicked me out, you git.”

  
They fall silent after that. Miles lets go of his hand, only to wrap his arm around his waist instead, and Alex all but melts into his side. He’s never not tired these days, but now, with Miles around, it’s a good kind of tired. The kind of tired that comes with letting go after a very long time of trying to keep everything together the best you can. Alex had no idea how he’d manage the last concerts of the tour alone and although he’s still not thrilled at the idea of having to go up on stage tonight, it all seems more manageable now that he has going home with Miles to look forward to.

  
They stroll amidst ducks and seagulls (no deer are in sight) and more people than Alex cares to have around him right now. He takes the umbrella from Miles and pulls it down low over their heads, bumping it against Miles' head in the process, which earns him a chuckle. Miles takes the umbrella from him again to keep it at a height that’s comfortable for the both of them. His hand his warm and grounding on his hip. It feels like it’s the only thing that keeps him from just floating away. Lately, Alex has had the absurd fear that his brain might detach itself from the rest of him at any given moment, and that he’ll be floating until the end of times. It’s a scary feeling, that.

  
“I feel as if I see everything through a thick sort of fog,” he murmurs, breaking the silence abruptly. It’s a conscious decision. Not only does he owe it to Miles to be honest with him; he also just wants to get it all out. He wishes he were as good with words when he’s speaking them as when he’s writing them, but he isn’t, so this will have to do. Miles glances at him briefly, his eyebrows raised in surprise, then nods. The grip on Alex’s hip tightens, just a little, as if to encourage him to go on, so Alex does.

  
“It’s as if nothing’s real,” he murmurs. “It’s as if I’m looking down upon meself, watching it all. Watching us from like – space, or summat. Like I’m Major Tom and all. I know I’m breathing and functioning more or less like I should, but I couldn’t tell you what I’m feeling for the life of me. I don’t think I’m feeling anything. Not a single fucking thing, Miles.” He’s slurring. He can hear it. He hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in days, but he sounds likes he’s absolutely wasted. But if he doesn’t get it out, he doesn’t know when he ever will. Still, trying to put a name to the mess that the past months have been is a strange, vulnerable endeavour, and this is Miles he’s talking to. The last thing he wants is for him to find out what kind of person he really is. Feeling suddenly embarrassed, he looks down at the ground. “I would have been very upset if you’d fallen into the Liffey,” he mutters absently, patting Miles’ hand on his hip with his own. “Wouldn’t have been a very rockstar way to go.”  
Miles chuckles. It’s the first sound he’s made since Alex started opening up to him, and he stays silent for a few moments after. “I’ve got you, Al,” he then murmurs. “I know I can’t fix things, but I’m going to be here. You need some proper help when we’re back home. We’ll both get some rest once we’re there – I suggest we go to mine, it’s much less pretentious and more like a proper home, if we’re being completely honest here – and you can rest up for a couple days, watch some films, let me cook you dinner, and once you’re feeling a bit better, we’ll get you a doctor’s appointment, yeah? Depression tends to not leave on its own.”

  
Miles taking charge is new. They’re usually pretty laid-back, the both of them, so this is something that’s surprising and, if Alex thinks about it, very welcome. It’s strange to hear Miles say _that_ word out loud, too. But it’s true, isn’t it? He is depressed. Has been for months. It’s probably for the best that someone’s finally giving the beast a name.  
“Al,” Miles says insistently, shaking him from his thoughts. “Does that sound alright? I mean, I know you’re all alone in that head of yours, but I’m here. And so are the others, if you just let them know.”

  
Alex shrugs. “Would you be alright with all that?” he asks. “With me coming to yours? You still seemed pretty upset when we talked about the whole me kicking you out mess last night. You shouldn’t let me stay at yours just because you think it’s the proper thing to do. I’m okay. I’m still breathing; healthy as I’ll ever be and all that.” He chuckles. Miles doesn’t.

  
“If this is the sort of thing you spend your time worrying about,” he says, “I’m not actually surprised that the prospect of us ending up together scared the living hell out of you.”  
Alex shakes his head. He’s tired of going around in circles. “I just want things to be clear is all,” he mutters. “That’s all. I want _you_ to know that I was so - infatuated with you that it scared me, hence the kicking you out. And _I_ want to know what staying with you would mean.”  
Miles stops in his tracks and Alex follows, letting himself be pulled close, so close that their noses are almost touching. He’s definitely not complaining.  
“You want things to be clear?” Miles asks. “Then listen to this. I’m not asking you to stay at mine because it’s the ‘proper’ bloody thing to do. I’m asking because I want to help and because I’m not going to waste another day by not being with you. Also, I’m asking because your place is pretentious as can be, so there’s no way in hell we’re going to yours. If you being nervous was the only reason why we haven’t been – you know.” He makes a vague gesture with his hand.  
“A couple,” Alex supplies dryly, mechanically, an Miles nods.  
“Yes. That. If you being nervous is the only reason for us not being together, I’m willing to pretend that you never kicked me out, but I’m also not going to let you slip away anymore simply because you’re a tad scared. I don’t really want to say it again as I don’t think you meant to push me away or anything, but like I told you last night, this is your last chance with me. I’m not going to let you hurt me this time, alright?”  
Alex nods. He feels like maybe he should be more emotional about this whole mess, but the only thing that makes him feel anything at all is Miles’ insistence to remain by his side despite everything Alex did to him. He remains ice cold otherwise, the fog preventing him from mourning the lost fun and contentment he could have felt during this tour without it. It is what it is and Alex isn’t sure he remembers what things were like before the fog, anyway. He humours himself for a moment and imagines they would have been as good as Miles smells, which makes a smile tug on his lips. He presses his nose into the man’s shoulder for a moment. Like old times. He’s never wanted to go home this badly and he intends to use this last chance with Miles well. He won’t need another.

  
“Let me buy you a drink,” he murmurs into his shoulder. “Take me to that pub that got you drunk enough to make you think the Liffey was a bloody ocean and let me buy you a drink. Lemme treat you, Miles, yeah? You deserve it.”  
Miles presses a kiss to the top of his head and Alex just stays there for a while, wrapped in that familiar embrace and that familiar scent, and that good kind of tired just washes over him. He’s more than a little worried about the gig that night, but he’s also in very good hands. And he’s going to buy Miles a drink. It makes him feel like he has some kind of control over the matter. It also makes him feel like he’s buying this gorgeous man that he’s been head over heels with for years a drink, and really, that’s not a bad feeling at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've kind of been editing, rewriting an adding to this despite the fact that I’d already finished writing it. It's now so long that I decided to turn it into three parts, so that's a thing that happened. I promise I'll leave it at that, though!
> 
> This part gets a bit explicit, which I'm a little surprised about myself, as I don't exactly enjoy writing that kind of thing. It's where it went though, and I don't really feel like editing it out. If you don't enjoy reading it, please feel free to skip it! Either way, here goes.

They take the bus to the city centre and get off near Trinity College, where Miles leads Alex to the pub of which his previous visit preceded his adventures by the Liffey. It’s already dark out when they get there, courtesy of all the rain, and the pub, with all its warm tones and cosy booths, is a very welcome change. Despite it being mostly empty, Miles leads Alex to the very back of the bar, where they sit down in a booth together. Alex doesn’t even have to muster up the courage to briefly press his lips to Miles’ before he gets up again and makes his way to the bar to buy them pints of Guinness. The barman doesn’t recognise him or does a very good job at pretending not to do so, and Alex is pressed against Miles’ side again before he knows it, oddly delighted by having gotten the opportunity to buy him a drink. Miles brings out a toast to them going home together and Alex clinks his glass against his in agreement. He relaxes against Miles’ side, giving into the sheer exhaustion that has come with months of travelling and berating himself for feeling the way that he does. Miles rests his weight on Alex in return. He must be exhausted himself. Of course he is. Alex leans up to kiss him and kiss him again. It’s unhurried; lips linger and noses brush against each other.

“I definitely don’t mind getting to do this a lot again from now on,” Miles murmurs when they finally pull back. Alex just smiles down at his pint, before taking a large drink of it. They sit in companionable silence for a while, nursing their beers and listening to the soft music that is playing in the background. For a moment everything else just seems to fall away. The gig, the travelling, all of it. No one knows they’re here, not even the rest of the band. It’s just the two of them, in a world of their own. Alex allows himself to just relax into it all, just for a little while. Drink forgotten, he just sits there, pressed into Miles’ side. It takes him remarkably little effort to shut out even the music that is playing, and then he’s floating. It’s not the kind of floating he’s been scared of – the kind where he imagines his brain just leaves his head altogether. This is the better kind. The comfortable kind. He blinks wearily as Miles moves to take a sip of his drink and wills himself to stay awake. If he falls asleep now, he’ll wake up disoriented and anxious, and there’s no time for any of that. Not with tonight’s gig coming closer and closer. He has half a mind to order a whiskey or two just to get his brain running again in time for the concert; to force himself to feel something. He’s done it way too often lately, both before and after their gigs, with varying results. Tonight however, there’ll be none of that. It’s bad enough already that Miles has to see him in this state. He’s not about to make things worse by getting drunk on top of that. Besides, this isn’t just about making Miles feel somewhat at ease; the others haven’t exactly been oblivious to Alex isolating himself either. He’s not planning on ruining their last show for them. It’s bad enough that he’s already bound to show up late for their sound check, which will definitely earn him the usual annoyed looks and eye rolls. At least everyone knows he’s with Miles, who is much more punctual than he is, especially when it comes to doing gigs. They can count on him to deliver Alex more or less on time. Alex smiles secretly at the thought. Just to test his theory he offers to buy them a second drink, and he isn’t disappointed. Miles checks his phone for the time, then shakes his head. “Let’s find a cab. Wouldn’t want to get accused of keeping you all to myself.”

“I wish you would,” murmurs Alex. “Keep me all to yourself, I mean. I’d have absolutely no complaints.” 

Miles smiles that contagious smile of his and shakes his head. “Just you wait until we’re home,” he says. “Might not even let you leave the bedroom for the first couple of days.” Something flashes in his eyes and Alex is pretty sure that it is reflected in his own. Being shagged until his brain explodes sounds pretty good right about now. 

“Why wait until we’re home?” he asks, sitting up a little. “We’ve got plenty of time. I haven’t even seen you without all those clothes on since you got here. It’s a disgrace, is what it is.”

Miles visibly considers it. His tongue darts out to lick his upper lip and God, Alex has missed that look that says he’s about to be devoured. Sex with Miles is different from sex with anyone else. It’s rough and urgent and full of whispered nothings and laughter, and it’s Alex’ favourite thing in the entire stupid world. He can feel his cheeks heat up at the thought. Miles, who has clearly been thinking about the exact same thing, grins. His eyes have darkened visibly. “Let’s get you to the venue first,” he says. “I’m sure there’s an empty dressing room with our name on it somewhere.”

And really, in hindsight, those words are clearly the easiest way to get Alex anywhere on time. They’re in a cab within minutes and at the venue within ten. It’s a miracle.

It is during said sound check of course when Alex realises that the small world he and Miles have spent the past couple of hours is rapidly falling away again, the comfort and warmth slowly seeping out of his body again only to be replaced with that lethargy Alex has grown so goddamn tired of. Still, it’s an improvement. The comfort he feels when Miles is around is the exact level of comfort that he’d hoped to find by locking himself up in his hotel room every night during the rest of the tour, surrounded by alcohol and dramatic music. As opposed to all of that though, being around Miles doesn’t make things worse in the end. It makes him calmer rather than more agitated and on edge. There’s no hangover involved. It’s nice.

“Al.” Jamie’s voice brings him back to the now, and for a moment Alex just blinks at him. Realising that he’s giving himself away, he quickly follows that up with a tight smile.

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. He rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Sorry. I’m listening.” His gaze strays from Jamie automatically, seeking out Miles instead. He’s still there, at the very back of the stage, fiddling with one of Alex’ guitars. It’s pathetic, really, but the mere sight calms him down a little. Miles doesn’t look up, doesn’t realise he’s being watched, and Alex likes how he’s so absorbed in what he’s doing. He’s always loved watching Miles play and the fact that it’s Alex’ guitar he’s using makes it even better. It’s as if nothing has changed. Miles is still the only person allowed to use his guitars and he’s always used them as if they’re his own, long fingers carefully strumming the strings. It reminds Alex of what else those fingers are capable of, and he smiles.

“It helps, doesn’t it. Having him around helps.” Jamie has followed Alex’ gaze and Miles finally looks up, giving them both a grin before going back to what he was doing. Alex tears his gaze away reluctantly and shrugs his shoulders. “That obvious, is it. I suppose it does. I feel better.” It’s not entirely true, but he has no idea how to explain. Telling one person about why he’s been like this lately is more than enough for the day.

“I’m glad,” Jamie nods. “I’m just going to go ahead and say it, we’ve all been worried. And if you’re not going home with Miles, maybe coming back to England for a bit wouldn’t be so bad, yeah? LA’s pretty far away from us and all that.”

Alex swallows thickly. “I’m – erm.” He gestures to Miles, and Jamie gives him another nod.

“Good,” he murmurs. “That’s good. So let’s just get sound check over with. Try to focus, Al, okay? The faster we get everything right, the better.” He puts his hand on Alex shoulder and squeezes, and then he’s off again, leaving Alex to stand in the middle of the stage, looking out over the empty venue. His throat constricts and he runs an unsteady hand through his hair. He can’t quite put his finger on where his fear of doing this last gig comes from, as standing on stage without feeling anything isn’t exactly the end of the world, but he can feel his heart speed up and surely that isn’t a good sign. Abruptly, he turns his back to where the audience will be tonight and strums a few chords. It’s just another concert and the very last one, at that. He’ll do fine. All he has to do is go through the motions, and he's good at that.

Jamie’s right, of course. The faster sound check is over, the better, and Alex soon finds out exactly what ‘better’ means. The second they leave the stage, Miles is right by his side again. With what can only be described as the smuggest smile Alex has ever seen, he takes him by his wrist and leads him through a maze of hallways, until they finally reach the room that he’s apparently had his eye on. Alex smiles tiredly as they step inside, but almost stumbles over his own feet when Miles puts a hand on either side of his face and kisses him hard. He all but slams the door shut behind them with his foot, and Alex raises his eyebrows, a small smile tugging on his lips. Two can play this game, and if this is going to be anything at all like how it usually is between them, Alex will definitely be distracted from what’s to come for a while. He puts his hands on Miles’ narrow hips and pulls him closer, pressing their lips together in another eager kiss. By the time they’re well out of breath and have to pull back, Alex has ended up with his back against the wall, with Miles pressed up against him. Miles goes in for another kiss, his hands leaving Alex’ face and trailing down over his chest instead. Alex squirms. Their kisses are nothing like the gentle, lingering ones from earlier. These are urgent and demanding and – it’s been so, so long. None of it is enough. Not even when Miles moves his hand to Alex’ trousers, cupping him through his jeans, and not even when Alex dips his hands under Miles shirt and touches skin that is warm and familiar under his fingers. He tugs at Miles’ shirt until he gets the hint and helps him get rid of it, then starts working on those ridiculously tight trousers.

“You’re not playing fair, Al,” Miles complains, but he really doesn’t sound all that upset. Alex just smirks absent-mindedly, pulling the trousers down unceremoniously, along with his underwear, and God, Miles is every bit as gorgeous as he remembered. He mentally curses himself for letting him get away like he did – for pushing him away like he did –, but puts that thought to the back of his mind. He can beat himself up over that all he wants later. Not now. Not now that Miles is completely naked, right there in front of him. Suddenly in a rush, he turns them around, catching Miles by surprise, which gives Alex the opportunity to push him up against the wall instead. He can think later. Now is not a time for thinking. Still, he doesn’t know where to start. He wants to kiss Miles and run his fingers all across that toned chest and just drop to his knees already to suck him off all at the same time. He settles for a kiss that isn’t half as rough as he needs it to be. Miles’ hand comes up to run his fingers through his hair, and he gently tugs on it, pulling Alex back ever so slightly.

“You okay?” he asks, a little out of breath. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?” Alex asks. “I’m enjoying myself is what this is.”

“Thought you were freaking out for a moment.”

Alex glares at him, his brown eyes darkening. He takes both Miles’ hands and puts them on his hips, keeping them there. “Wish you’d stop treating me like I’m made out of glass,” he breathes, his voice rough. “I’m not going to break. Just want to have a good time and forget for a bit, yeah? Want to be with you, and as far as I remember you were never this stupidly careful with me.”

Miles hesitates for a moment, but clearly Alex’ plea has helped him make up his mind. He helps Alex out of his shirt, tossing it aside carelessly, and, as if he knows exactly what Alex wants – and let’s be honest, he probably does – he then uses a hand on the back of his head to guide him to his knees. The gesture is strange an intimate and perfect, and Alex wishes Miles would go on and guide him all the way to his cock. He doesn’t. His hand doesn’t leave the back of Alex’ head, but he stops guiding him, so Alex reaches for him instead, making Miles hiss and breathe out shakily. Alex looks up to meet his eye, and it feels so good to be here again, to be this close to Miles again. He should never have ended things between them, but he’s a fool, in every sense of the word, and if he’s planning on forgetting about that for now, he’s going to need more. Much more. He wraps his lips around Miles’ length, breaking eye contact only once he carefully takes all of him that he can fit. Miles trembles. The grip on his hair tightens and Alex can feel the effort it takes him to keep his hips from just snapping forward. ‘Go on’, he wants to say, ‘we’ve done this before. Not made out of stupid fucking glass.’ He stays silent, though, too into what he’s doing, and wraps his fingers around the part of Miles that he can’t fit into his mouth. He’s still not sure what he wants. His mind won’t quiet down, and while he tries to focus on sucking Miles off, there’s still the upcoming concert and the crowd and his crazy fucking mind, and he wishes his brain would just stop. He wishes it would all stop, except for this. Except for him and Miles. He pulls back abruptly, drawing a disappointed whimper from Miles. “I’m serious here,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Don’t treat me like I’ll break. We’ve done this plenty of times, yeah? Nothing’s changed.”

Miles already opens his mouth to argue, but Alex gives him a curt shake of his head. “Give it to me, yeah? I want you. Not some half-arsed copy of you.”

Miles draws a breath, hesitates for one very short moment, and then his grip on Alex hair tightens. “I bloody love you,” he murmurs, and isn’t that the first time those words have made an appearance since they made up again? Alex smiles stupidly at them. He’s never even said them back before, and he’s not sure he wants to right at this moment, being in the position that he’s in, so he doesn’t. He just smiles instead, and he knows Miles understands. Not that either of them gets any time to come to terms with anything. Miles finger tangle themselves in Alex’ long hair and his hips snap forward as soon as Alex wraps his lips around him again. It’s perfect. Alex’ eyes flutter closed as he lets Miles use him. His own body feels like it’s on fire, and he’s not sure whether to focus on swallowing around Miles, or on that hand in his hair, making his scalp tingle, or on Miles mumbling both profanities and nothings. So he just lets Miles have his way with him, eyes closed and out of breath, trapped by the strong hand in his hair. Everything quiets down and it’s absolute bliss. He goes pliant in Miles grip, his eyes watering and his own cock throbbing, and it’s enough. God, it’s finally enough. By the time Miles pulls him back, his eyes are unfocussed and he feels thoroughly fucked, when they haven’t even gone there yet. Alex is not sure he wants to tonight, either. Then again, he’s not sure of anything at the moment. He almost loses his balance when Miles pulls him up, clashing their mouths together. He manhandles Alex until he’s the one pressed up against the wall again, and then – finally, his trousers are coming off as well, along with his shorts.

“You should see yourself,” Miles growls, his hand travelling downwards, those long fingers heating up Alex’ skin along the way. “I’d almost forgotten what being on your knees like that does to you. It’s beautiful is what it is.” He caresses Alex’ flushed cheek with his free hand as his lips travel over his jaw, over his neck, and to his collarbone. “Gonna show everyone that you’re mine,” he mutters. Alex shivers as his lips brush against the sensitive skin there. Miles grins at him, and Alex hopes he doesn’t look as ridiculously flustered as he feels. He arches into Miles’ every touch, far past forcing himself to tone it down a little. A low moan escapes his lips as Miles finally wraps his hand around his cock, and he’s lucky that wall is there, or he would have long since dropped to his knees for a second time. Miles sucks a dark bruise into his skin, which has Alex pressing into his hand with none of the self-restraint Miles showed earlier. His head feels like it’s filled with cotton and he usually despises how wanton he gets during sex with Miles, but this right here is what he needs right now. He needs to not think.

“You’re going to be so blissed out during that gig that everyone will know,” Miles murmurs, his fingers dancing over the dark bruise on Alex’ skin. “There won’t be a single person out there who won’t know what I did to you.”

Alex huffs out a breathy laugh. It feels like it’s the sexiest thing that Miles could possibly say, because hell, Alex is a very private person alright, but he couldn’t care less about people knowing who he’s with. He’s proud that he’s with Miles. That Miles has chosen him despite everything.

“Yeah?” he babbles. “Try me. Am close. More, Mi. More.” He has half a mind to sink to his knees again and finish what he started, but then Miles wraps his hand around both their cocks at the same time, and it’s hot and intimate and Alex simply shuts the hell up. He puts a hand on Miles’ shoulder to steady himself and grips hold of it tightly. Miles laughs breathily. That’s what you get, that laugh says, and Miles free hand travels south to caress his nipples, his mouth travels over Alex’ neck, leaving a trail of tiny, barely visible bruises. Alex just sinks into it all, into the intimacy and into the fire building in the pit of his stomach and into Miles taking the lead. It’s been way too fucking long. He can’t remember the last time he let anyone come this stupidly close. Miles’ skin is soft and warm under his fingers, and it’s real and it’s good and Alex has to gasp for breath as Miles thumbs the head of his cock. He leans in to kiss Miles’ lips, and kiss Miles wherever he can reach, and then the fire explodes, and he’s coming and Miles is coming and everything is insignificant except for what they’re doing. Alex’ skin tingles and his arms are heavy and his legs are heavy and it’s the loveliest feeling in the whole entire world. He stumbles forward, making Miles catch him, and those arms are strong and familiar around him. Everything else has simply stopped and it’s bliss. He feels drunk with it all.

Miles carefully leads him to the sofa, where they collapse in a mess of arms and legs, and a carefree laugh bubbles up in Alex’ chest. He opens his eyes and meets Miles’ gaze, and that ridiculously fond look in the man’s eyes makes something tug at his heart.

“See,” he murmurs. “That’s what I meant. That’s what I like. You’re what I like. I love you.” He’s rambling, but it’s all good. It’s all true. He does love Miles and he’s going to go home with him, and everything’s fine. It’s all fine. There’s always next time for taking it slow and having Miles fuck him. For now, this was exactly what Alex needed.

“Love you, too,” Miles grins, clearly quite pleased with himself. He arranges them so that Alex is lying mostly on top of him, then wraps his arms around his waist, keeping him right where he is. It makes everything even better. Alex quietly demands another kiss and Miles complies.

“You want to come on stage later to play 505 with us?” he asks, his fingers brushing over Miles’ chest.

Miles shakes his head. “Not tonight,” he murmurs. “I’ll be there, though. Won’t leave the side of the stage for a second, yeah?”

And Alex nods. He knows he shouldn’t have asked. He can’t make this Miles’ thing. It’s his thing. His problem, his last hurdle before the weight of this tour will finally fall off his shoulders. Nevertheless, he’s not about to make this harder on himself than it has to be. Not now that Miles knows. Not now that Miles is right there. His pride will just have to endure him being a bit more clingy than he’d prefer to be, for the sake of his sanity. The only way he’s going to manage standing on that stage in an hour or so, is if he’s as loose and pliant as he is now. Tonight, he’s going to depend on the fact that Miles is here to get through it all. It might not be the healthy way to do it, but it sure as hell is healthier than relying on alcohol to do the trick, and this is only a one-time thing. After tonight, he’s going to get help. That’s how it’s going to go. He allows himself to close his eyes as Miles’ fingers caress the back of his head, and stifles a yawn. “I want a real shag after the concert,” he demands, and Miles chest vibrates as he laughs.

“That seemed pretty damn real to me, Aly,” he murmurs, “but suit yourself. I’ll happily oblige.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, sorry, I’m in a pub and a bit drunk but I really wanted to post this on my birthday because it’s the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written. I’ll edit it in the morning! For now, enjoy the flawed version. [update: it's now edited, so if you spot any mistakes that's just because I was too lazy to have someone proofread it. ;) I hope it's not terrible. For some reason I struggled with the language much more when writing this chapter than when I wrote the other two.]
> 
> This one got much lengthier than I planned for and might have gotten a bit rambly and unclear as a result, so if you spot any mistakes or have any suggestions, please feel free to leave a comment. I'd appreciate it a lot!

Whilst Miles slowly comes down from his post-orgasmic high Alex tries to retain it. He melts into their embrace, revelling in the heat that radiates off Miles’ skin, and tries to drink it all in. He can only imagine how his behaviour might come off towards Miles and he strongly doubts it’ll do the future of their relationship any good, and yet, he can’t seem to let go. Miles’ hand comes up to caress the sensitive skin of the back of his neck, and he shakes his head, long hair falling in front of his face, providing him with an even better hiding place than Miles’ shoulder. The younger man brushes it away from his eyes and when Alex meets his gaze, it’s obvious that Miles is firmly back in reality again. His eyes are lighter, but his frown is back as well. Alex reaches out to brush his fingers over his forehead, as if to smooth it away.

“Al?” 

He hums in reply and closes his eyes. For all his openness, Miles is also very transparent and it’s not difficult to figure out what he’s after. If they’re going to be talking, Alex would rather not be here for it. 

“How are you feeling about the gig? Are you up to it?”

There it is. Alex hesitates for a moment. He’s sleepy and coming down from his high way too fast, and this is the last thing he wants to talk about right now. He presses a row of feather-light kisses to Miles’ shoulder and throat, but Miles shakes his head. “If you’re going to be standing on that stage in a bit, I’m going to need to know how you’re doing,” he says. 

“I was doing perfectly fine when I was sucking you off just now,” Alex mutters. “Maybe we should have a second round and then you can ask me again.” 

It’s clear by the way Miles’ frown deepens how unfunny he is, and guilt creeps up on him. Guilt seems to have become a recurring theme these days, and despite the fact that at least it’s making him feel something, he’s not sure he likes it anymore.  
“I’m not really here,” he mutters, answering Miles question as well as he can. He closes his eyes again and considers for a moment. “I’m going to go on stage and do the show, but I’m not going to be there for a single second. That frightens me.” It’s the clearest thing he’s said all day. It feels more or less true as well. “And maybe we shouldn’t talk about it until after the concert,” he adds. “If I’m not going to be present for the show, I’d much rather have my thoughts with what just happened than with how much I’ve let everyone down lately.”

“Al.” Miles’ grip on him tightens. 

“I have though, haven’t I. I let you down, before any of this even happened, and I let the band down, because this happened. Because I let it happen.” 

Miles tuts quietly. “None of that, alright? If you had a choice, you wouldn’t be feeling like this right now. You didn’t have a choice. You didn’t let anything happen.” 

Alex shakes his head. “Let’s stop here,” he says. “I’m too busy picturing you shagging me.” And really, he meant for it to come out like a joke, but it sounds all stupid and serious, and he doesn’t want to be serious anymore. Miles sighs, but he doesn’t protest. They fall silent again, although this time it isn’t the carefree, contented kind of silence. Perhaps they simply shouldn’t have, just now. It makes the comedown to the real world even harder, the gap between that safe space with Miles and the reality of this tour even bigger. Still, Alex tries desperately to cling onto it all, and he clings to Miles as if tonight is the last night they’ll see each other again.

They only get up once they get cold, and even then they move at a pace that would annoy Miles before a gig at any other time (fair is fair however, this isn’t Miles’ concert, which probably takes a lot of that stress away). They get dressed, and Alex doesn’t even try to button his shirt properly, leaving the purple bruise on his collarbone for all to see. Miles shakes his head, but he still has that smug look in his eyes, so Alex decides to just leave it that way for now. Before Miles can open the door to the hallway, Alex pulls him back by his wrist and kisses him. He can’t just go out there and lock all that just happened away, like he did as soon as they started the sound check. He wants to take it with him, carry that small world that they’ve created for the both of them with him for the rest of the night. It’s pathetic and he’s convinced that Miles will figure him out and change his mind about him sooner rather than later, but didn’t he just promise himself that being a bit clingy would be okay tonight? It’s a necessary evil, really. 

Miles doesn’t step back. Instead, he just reaches out to take a gentle hold of Alex’ chin and locks their lips one last time. Alex whimpers. His arms snake around Miles’ waist and – like in the park earlier – he allows himself to just stay there for a while; to soak it all up. It isn’t too long before he gets embarrassed, and he shuffles back with his gaze on Miles’ chest rather than meeting his eye. “Thanks,” he mutters. “Sorry. I’ll get over this. It’s just for tonight is all. I’ll – well. You know. I told you, didn’t I. I’m going to need some help tonight, is what it comes down to.” 

Miles shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologise,” he promises. “I’m here to help, aren’t I. We’ll get you through tonight just fine.” 

Alex kisses him again for that. There’s nothing about this situation that should be happening – there’s nothing about it that’s healthy – and he never planned on letting Miles see him like this, but how can it be so bad if it’s helping him as much as it does?

Miles slowly leads them into the hallway. The band’s dressing room is the next step, and Alex isn’t given any opportunity to turn around and leave. They can already hear the excited chatter from the other side of the door. There’s laughter and shouting and it sounds like a genuinely good time, but Alex hesitates outside. Miles gives him a look. Neither of them is sure if it’s a good idea when he takes Alex by his hand and simply leads him inside, but Alex is secretly glad he does, anyway. He isn’t exactly opposed to spending time with his friends, but the disconnect between him and the rest of the band has been painfully apparent for a while now. He hasn’t been able to join in their excitement for each gig for months. The last thing he wants is to ruin this final concert – the cherry on top – for them. 

When they step inside the conversation only falls silent for a second, and it’s only because his mates usually stop talking when he enters a room that Alex notices. He looks at Miles, who seems oblivious to it all, and clears his throat. “Sorry I’m late,” he offers, feeling quite out of place in this room that is filled to the brim with excitement and enthusiasm. Miles arches an eyebrow, very visibly fighting against the urge to laugh out loud, but Nick doesn’t even bother. He snorts, shaking his head. “Since when do you apologise for being late? Because if you’re starting, I believe you owe us about a thousand of those.”  
Alex shrugs a shoulder. He can’t think of anything to say in return, so he just smiles and sits down on the sofa next to Nick. Just like that, that world that he and Miles created for themselves is out the door again. His hand travels up to the bruise on his collarbone, his fingers pressing into it as if by proxy. Nick hands him a beer and he accepts it with a nod and a ‘thank you’. He can feel their eyes on him and when he looks up to tell them to cut it out, his eyes meet Jamie’s.  
“You looking forward to tonight then, Al?” he asks, but the words come carefully, as if he’s feeling his way through the conversation in advance.  


Alex nods. He doesn’t even have to think about it, he just does. “Course I am.” A small sip of his beer. It’s much stronger than he expected. His gaze moves to Miles, who also has a beer in his hand, and maybe just one drink will simply do the trick and help him fall back into that more pleasant kind of haze. The dressing room sex kind of haze. It’s only when Jamie snorts and gives him a pointed look when he realises that he’s still running his fingers over the bruise. And really, it’s a stupid, nonsensical thing to do, and he drops his hand to his lap as if he’s burnt himself. 

“Jealous?” Miles asks, and Alex lets out a relieved little laugh when he sees how smug he still looks. 

Jamie grins. “You wish. Good luck trying to hide that thing, Al.”  
Alex shrugs his shoulders. He’s not about to try. He doesn’t think it looks that terrible at all. He takes a swig of his beer and sets the bottle aside as he gets up to find a clean shirt to change into. As he changes into his stage outfit, Miles sinks down onto his spot on the sofa, long legs sprawled out in front of him. He joins in on the conversation with practiced ease, and soon he’s the one who’s talking the most. Alex watches the small group from the corner of his eye. The situation seems perfectly normal from where he’s standing; everyone seems completely at ease. Miles gestures with his hand enthusiastically, and they all laugh and continue to talk animatedly. No one seems at all worried about what is to come. Alex is right there watching it all, but their voices sound off – they sound warped, somehow. It’s as if he’s trying to listen in over a bad phone line. He takes his sweet time styling his hair, postponing the moment when he’ll have to join them again. His chest feels strangely tight, and when he finally puts his hairbrush away, his heart is pounding. He knows better than to worry about it by now – it’s just the side-effect of his brain letting him down –, but it isn’t exactly pleasant nonetheless. He turns his back to the others and struggles to take a deep breath, attempting to calm both himself and his body down. Once he turns around again, actual sweat is dripping down the back of his neck as his body heats up. It all seems to be coming out of nowhere, and Alex knows by now that all he can do is wait for it t pass. The conversation his friends are having sounds warped and far away still, and Alex half expects to walk into some kind of invisible wall when he finally makes his way back to the sofa.

But there is no wall and he sits down on the armrest, close enough to Miles for comfort, but not close enough to arouse suspicion in him or the others. He takes out his phone and pretends to scroll through it as he calms down further. The sweating ceases, his body goes back to its usual temperature, and when he can finally make out the words that sound around him, Miles is telling the stupid Liffey story again. Alex huffs out a laugh in relief, and it’s a strange, high-pitched noise that has everyone looking at him in a tick. The others join in, laughing with him, and Nick starts a similar story of his own. Miles however isn’t smiling. He studies Alex’ face, and Alex lets him, refusing to blink even once as their eyes meet. “ ‘m fine,” he mouths, and Miles nods once, laying a hand on his knee. It’s going to be a long fucking night, Alex decides. Small waves of panic like the one that happened just now are still completely unpredictable to him, as he hasn’t yet figured out what causes their sudden onset, and if his dazed headspace of today is anything to go by, this definitely wasn’t the last one for the night. He squeezes Miles hand and looks away as those dark, worried eyes seek to meet his own. It’s going to be a very long night indeed.

Alex studies the rings on Miles’ fingers with unusual interest until it’s time to go on stage. There’s no invisible wall when they leave the dressing room and no wall when they all meet by the side of the stage. The voices of the crowd roar up from where Alex can’t see them, and his heart hammers against his chest. He can hear the blood rush in his ears, and he desperately wishes he would have finished his drink. Miles is right by his side, looming over him in the least intimidating of ways. His hand is on Alex’ shoulder, squeezing a little too hard to be comfortable, but not hard enough to keep him from floating. The crowd’s excited chanting gets louder, and Alex isn’t nervous in the slightest, he isn’t in the least bit interested in what people may or may not think of their performance tonight, but he feels absolutely terrified nonetheless. It makes no sense whatsoever and it frustrates him to no end, but that fear is real, and it’s not going anywhere. He realises that he’s trembling only when Miles lets go of his shoulder. Before he gets a change to protest, Miles nods his head towards a corner. “Come with me for a sec,” he whispers. “You’re going to need to try to stay with two feet firmly on the ground, Al, okay?”  
Alex nods, almost stumbling over those two feet as he follows Miles into the corner. Miles presses in close and smiles one of those friendly, genuine smiles that Alex adores so much.  


“I promise you that it’ll be a little better once you’re out there,” he murmurs, moving in so that his lips are almost brushing Alex’ ear as he speaks. “I tuned your guitar during sound check, so you might not even sound all that terrible tonight, either.’

Alex shakes his head, a small smile tugging on his lips through all that mist. “Thanks every so much,” he murmurs back. 

Miles kisses his temple in response. “All joking aside, are you going to be okay?” 

Alex shrugs a shoulder. “I was fine earlier.” Or maybe he was just very distracted. There really isn’t that much of a difference. 

“And now?” 

“Now I don’t know.” Alex doesn’t think he’s ever been this straightforward in his life. Clearly, Miles is rubbing off on him already. “Perhaps you should get out of those clothes again and we’ll see if we can distract me again.” His voice sounds dull, and Miles only gives him a sorry smile, rather than a full-blown laugh. He wraps both his arms around Alex, as if he can wrap him into their small word again, just like that. Perhaps he can. It’s worth a try. Alex presses his forehead against Miles’ shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut as he wills himself to focus on Miles’ breathing rather than his own. The pressure in his chest doesn’t seem to want to leave though, and he makes a noise that sounds and awful lot like a sob. Gritting his teeth, he takes a handful of Miles’ shirt and bunches it up in his hand. There’s no way in hell that he’s about to burst into tears right before a concert. He’d choose being on the front page of the Daily Mail snogging Miles over being pictured crying any day. 

“You’re alright,” Miles whispers. “It’s just another gig. You could do this in your sleep if you had to. I saw you on stage in Rome last night, yeah? You were brilliant.” 

Alex is too tired to argue. He roughly runs the back of his hand over his eyes, blinking until his tears are completely gone. He needs to get a grip, or everything will go straight to hell tonight. The crowd will be disappointed, his band mates will be annoyed and Miles patience won’t be everlasting. At one point, sooner rather than later, he’ll be over Alex’ antics. He feels the tears come, and rests his head on Miles’ shoulder again, hiding his face. Miles strokes his hair and holds him, as if they have all the time in the world. The crowd however is not getting any quieter, and Alex knows he has to face reality sooner rather than later. 

“You’ll do just fine,” Miles encourages him. “This isn’t ideal – hell, it’s shite if what it is – but it’s the last one. In ninety minutes or so you’ll be all done. It’ll be over, and I’ll be taking you back to our hotel room for a night of whatever activity you fancy.” 

Alex nods. His heart hammers in that not-so-good kind of way, and ‘whatever activity you fancy’ does sound pretty damn good, but the words get lost somewhere in the haze, and he can’t bring himself to look forward to whatever they might end up meaning. He goes quiet and tries to focus on going pliant in Miles’ arms. If his exterior remains as calm and unfazed as it is right now, his insides are going to have to stop squirming sooner rather than later as well, he reasons. 

“And then we’ll go home, just you and me,” Miles continues, unperturbed by the lack of response. His fingers caress Alex’ cheek, and the nape of his neck. Alex stays perfectly still, willing himself to calm down already. 

Miles nods. “There you go, laa. That’s it,” he mutters, his hand still moving over Alex neck gently. “And as for us going home, I’m talking late nights and lazy mornings and motorcycle rides and watching crap telly and eating home cooked food and overall just having a good time. Doesn’t sound half bad, right?” He doesn’t mention the doctors and the therapists and everything else that is involved in getting your brain back in working order. It’s very diplomatic of him, Alex thinks. 

“That does sound nice,” he admits. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this exhausted. If Miles holds him this tightly any longer, he might fall asleep right then and there.

“Al.” It’s Matt this time. It’s as if they’re taking turns trying to talk to him, the three of them. He looks a little apologetic as he approaches, and when Alex steps out of Miles’ embrace and turns around to look at him, he offers the both of them a small smile that seems out of place in combination with the frown on his forehead. Alex steps away from Miles reluctantly. “Right,” he says. It’s time. I know. I’m sorry.”

Matt nods. “You’ll be great, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he says, his hesitation clearly audible from the pauses in between his words. Alex hates that everyone seems to feel like they have to plan out their conversations with him these days. He also hates himself a little, for having failed to communicate how he’s been feeling. In all these months, he hasn’t even tried once. 

“I mean it,” Matt says, that awkward smile still in place. “C’mon, Al. It’s the last one. Imagine the outrage if we showed up without our beloved frontman. It’ll be fun, this one. The crowd’s amazing. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed already.” 

“It’s not about the crowd. I’m not nervous,” Alex mutters, in an half-hearted attempt to explain. He realises only how annoyed those words make him sound once they’re already out in the open. Annoyance is the very last thing he feels right now. He really is just trying to explain. He takes another deep breath, trying to suck in as much oxygen as he can in one go. He’s still struggling for air. It’s pathetic is what it is. 

Matt frowns. “Al. Please. No need to get all defensive. There’s no time for this. Not now. We’re here, we all signed up for this tour collectively, and there are thousands of people out there who paid money to see us. So just – maybe try to snap out of it for a bit, no matter how annoyed you are with this entire tour. We’d all like it to be like it used to be, just for tonight.” He pauses, then adds: “And look, I can see that you’re not okay. We all can. So maybe you shouldn’t be – you know. You probably need to go do your thing and rest up for a while after this tour. You’re not you. If you don’t mind me saying it.” 

It’s unfair and much too fair at the same time, and Miles murmurs something about terrible timing. Alex just stares past Matt’s shoulder for a moment, not sure what to tell him. He’ll go on stage, of course he will. He’s not about to let anyone down. He just isn’t planning on doing so with a tear-streaked face. 

Miles doesn’t say anything else, refusing to argue with Matt on Alex’ behalf, and gently rubs the small of Alex’ back instead. It feels nice. Alex clears his throat, but it’s Matt who breaks the silence, when he does the same and mumbles something that sound like an apology. “Just – it’s time to go on and all, is what I was trying to say. It’ll be good, Al.” 

Alex nods. His skin tingles unpleasantly. His heart has gone back to normal speed, and he feels completely numb rather than calm. For now it’s useful, at least. It’ll make going on stage easier. “Yeah,” he says. “It’ll be good. I know. And I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. Not just about tonight. I’m – generally sorry. About the past couple of months.” 

Matt gives him a curt shake of his head. “Don’t mention it. You shouldn’t have been on your own through whatever this is. Our fault as much as yours.” He nods at Alex, and with that he’s off, joining Jamie and Nick by the side of the stage. They’re all waiting for him, and Alex thinks that he might actually be able to pull tonight off now that his senses seem to have shut down completely. He turns around to face Miles again. He gets a kiss, and another one, and then Miles produces the bracelet he usually wears from his back pocket. “It might be a daft idea,” he says, “but would it help? If you had something to touch if you think you’re not doing too well out there? Something that isn’t that ridiculous bruise on your chest, that is? You should sue whoever did that to you.” 

Alex laughs breathily, raising his eyebrows in surprise. He doesn’t bother with a reply, just holds out his wrist and lets Miles clasp the chunky little chain around it. He kisses Miles on the lips, lets him button his shirt up far enough to more or less cover the bruise, and then he’s off to join the others. He keeps his back towards Miles, tries his best to ignore the roar of the crowd, and there they fucking go. 

The entire concert goes by as if it were a dream, the chaotic, messy, illogical kind. There’s the flashing lights, the crowd singing, and Alex singing, or so he thinks. He’s vaguely aware that somehow, he’s getting himself through the gig without making a complete fool of himself, but none of it feels like it’s real. The lights disorientate him; the audience singing along with him in a vast sea of voices makes him feel like he’s drowning. At some point, he wraps Miles’ bracelet tightly around his wrist behind his back to keep himself somewhat present, and later, there’s Miles giving him a thumbs-up and a cheesy grin after a complicated guitar solo, which he plays with practiced ease as his brain floats somewhere far above the venue. He works harder than he ever has before and by the time the lights finally go down, his shirt sticks to his back and everything around him is one big, colourful blur. Still, the fact that it’s over now doesn’t quite get through to him. Unseeingly, he trails after the others as they leave the stage. There are people slapping him on the back, excited voices sound around him, and really, Alex knows that the show could not have been better. Nick announces an after party and drinks, which causes for the usual enthusiasm. Alex sways on his feet. ‘Drinks’ sounds like a brilliant fucking idea right now, but his legs are heavy and to get to the backstage area Alex feels like he has to fight his way through a dense, dark kind of mud. There will still be drinks left aplenty once he’s taken a little break. Just a short, brief, barely there break. He sinks down right there, on the stairs to the stage, the crew moving past him as they set about to disassemble everything, and rests his elbows on his knees, hanging his head down low as he closes his eyes. If he’s lucky, he’ll topple over and hurt himself, and that’ll wake him the fuck up right away.

Jamie reaches him before Miles does. He doesn’t say anything; simply sits down next to him, close enough for their shoulders to be touching, and Alex gives him a dazed smile. “We didn’t do all that bad tonight, did we,” he mutters, although he’s not sure he really remembers. 

Jamie lets out a laugh. “Are you kidding? We were brilliant. Well done, Al. I’m serious.”  


Alex laughs, too. It’s a hollow, raw sound, and he wraps his fingers tightly round the cold metal handle of the stairs. Jamie awkwardly pats his shoulder and moves to wrap his arm around him, but Alex shakes his head, raising an eyebrow at him. “No, no, none of that. ‘m fine. Go enjoy yerself,” he slurs. “Didn’t I hear something about an afterparty? Go celebrate, Jamie.” 

“Party will still be there in a few minutes.” That’s Miles’ voice right there, and Alex looks up reluctantly. There’s no need for Miles to see how badly he fucked himself up during the past ninety minutes. He can’t exactly avoid their eyes meeting as Miles crouches down in front of him and hands him a bottle of water. Alex sets it aside without even thinking about it. He doesn’t notice Miles’ pointed look, or the worried glance Jamie exchanges with him. He feels like a truck ran over him. He also feels like he could do with a drink, or five. And in order to get to that drink he’s going to have to get over himself and get back on his feet. It’s all quite simple, really. 

“Could ye just – ” He gestures for Jamie to help him up, and feels like right fool when his friend really does pull him onto his feet. 

“You look a bit peaky, Al,” Jamie says, not letting go of his upper arm even though they’re both upright, with Alex’ feet planted firmly on the ground. 

Alex just nods. “Just – gimme a minute. You can let go now. This is just how it works. I just need a smoke and a drink, and I’ll be as good as new.” 

But Jamie doesn’t let go. Perhaps he isn’t as steady on his feet as he thinks after all. “Go have fun,” he encourages him, and it sounds more like a plea than a suggestion. He wants to kick himself for sounding the way he does. For looking the way he looks. For letting it come this far. He just wants a drink. A drink to wake his brain up. He goes quiet, swallowing around the lump that has formed in his throat. If he’s quiet enough, if he waits long enough, he might just snap out of it all. But nothing happens.

Miles takes hold of his other shoulder, his grip gentle but firm. “Al?” he says. “I’m a bit out of me depth here, love, okay? What do we do? Are you feeling alright?” 

Alex looks up at him bleary-eyed. His heart hurts at how worried Miles looks. It feels good, somehow. Realising that this isn’t the time for cryptic stammering, he takes his time to think about a reply before saying anything. “This happens sometimes,” he then hears himself say. “I tend to get tired sometimes because of what’s going on with me head, is all. That’s what’s happening now, too. I don’t feel ill, I’m not about to do anything stupid; I joost feel out of it.” He takes a deep breath, strangely proud of himself for how clear and clinical the words come out of his mouth. “It’s not this bad usually,” he goes on to say, “but the past few days weren’t good days, so it’s completely logical if you ask me. I’m not worried. I’m not sure what to do about it either, but I would kill for a smoke and a drink. And a bed.”

Jamie’s grip on his shoulder loosens before it disappears completely, and he hands Alex his forgotten bottle of water. “I had no idea how bad it was,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, Al.” It makes Alex want to yell at him. 

“Didn’t exactly tell you about any of this, did I. Don’t apologise,” he replies. How he sounds so calm is beyond him. He feels unsteady on his feet still, and carefully wraps an arm around Miles’ waist. Jamie takes this as his cue to leave. He promises he’ll make sure to save two of the nicer beers for them, and then he’s off. Alex breathes in with his mouth wide open – he must look like a right fool – , and then wraps his other arm around Miles as well, burying his head against his shoulder. A shudder goes through his body and he half expects the sweating and the invisible hand on his windpipe to make their appearance again, but nothing happens. He’s a little surprised when instead the tears come again. It seems pointless to cry on the basis of not feeling anything. Or perhaps it’s relief he feels. Who can even tell anymore at this point? No matter why they’re there, the tears release some of the pressure on his chest and allow him to take a few grateful gulps of air as he focusses on the path one of Miles’ hands makes over his shoulder blade. Careful fingers press into a particularly tight knot near his neck, and Alex blinks slowly. You’d think he’d be used to Miles touching him again by now, especially after their little rendezvous in the dressing room, but nothing is less true. He stills under Miles’ hand, not wanting to do anything that may cause him to pull back, and listens as Miles starts speaking. “It’s done, Aly,” he says, his voice low and soothing, like a hot cup of tea on a cold autumn morning. “You did it, do you even realise that? You can be proud of yourself.” 

Alex listens to his voice rather than to his words, letting that familiar sound pull him further away from his little post-concert breakdown. A heavy blanket of exhaustion seems to wrap itself around his shoulders and push him further into Miles’ direction, and he doesn’t bother fighting it. The proximity between them does him good. Along with those ridiculous tears, it slowly pulls him back to earth, away from that uncomfortable trance. Miles’ gentle touches feel just like when someone touches when he’s high – as if it’s the best, most comfortable, most necessary thing to happen. It’s lovely is what it is. Alex chuckles tiredly. 

It is only when he gets lucid enough to realise how much of a fool he’s made of himself within the past few hours that he forces himself to pull back from their embrace. He brings both hands up to dry his eyes, avoiding Miles’ gaze until his skin feels dry again. He must look like a right wreck. Miles flew all the way across the world for him and he couldn’t even bother to swallow his issues for a good twenty-four hours and just power through. Essentially, Miles has just flown across the world to meet the pathetic excuse for a man that he has turned himself into. Alex shakes his head. “Let’s have that drink now,” he says. “You deserve one for putting up with this mess.” He starts walking before Miles can tell him to cut it out, but it’s a little hard not to notice the glare that burns into the back of his neck as he leads the way. 

They walk back to the dressing room shoulder to shoulder, Alex butting away Miles’ arm as it comes up around his waist to steady him. He’s allowed himself his breakdown. Enough is enough. There are only so many times a day that you can embarrass yourself and get away with it. Once inside, they find the band and the crew all huddled up in the room together, and get greeted enthusiastically. The plan, so it appears, is to have a quick drink together whilst everyone comes down from the high of being on stage, before hitting the town. Miles is quick to decline on behalf of the both of them, blaming his jetlag and smiling one of his charming smiles. Alex leaves him alone for a bit, knowing fully well that Miles really still is jetlagged as can be. He sinks down onto the sofa, next to Nick, and rests his head on the backrest for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels better. More awake, despite the fact that he’s exhausted. It’s not the bad kind of exhausted, though. When he looks up again, Jamie comes up to him to hand him that beer he promised him, and gives him a smile that is much more excited than pitying, so Alex smiles back. His drink turns out to be one of those craft beer type of drinks, and when he takes a sip he tastes citrus and grapefruit and really, he should despise it, but the bitter freshness of it doesn’t do a bad job at dragging him further away from the dark headspace he was in before, waking him up a little. It’s a strong one too, and Alex decides to enjoy it while it lasts. He sinks further into the sofa pillows, limbs heavy. He watches the others through half-lidded eyes, feeling as if they’re all miles away still. This time however he can’t exactly bring himself to be bothered by it. He likes that everyone is so far away. It’s sort of as if he’s dreaming, but it’s not a bad dream this time. He feels comfortable. Miles’ voice sounds above all other voices, like it usually does, and Alex just listens without hearing a word of what he’s saying. Warm, welcome relief takes over his heavy limbs whilst he listens to that voice and sips his beer. Finally, his brain seems to catch up with the fact that it’s all done. It’s really over. They can finally go home now. And really, if he can get himself to function like a normal human being after tonight, the plan to move in with Miles for a while might still be salvageable. Miles might still be okay with it. And he’ll get help. He will. 

He drinks rather quickly, enjoying the cold temperature of his beer as much as the effect the alcohol has on his already heavy body. The coldness wakes him up further; the alcohol takes away the sharp edges that come with surfacing after a bad few hours. The party breaks up much too soon for his liking, as everyone gets ready to go out. He very briefly considers going with them, both to give Miles a break and to have another pint or two, but Miles has other plans. He holds out a hand for Alex to take, announcing that they’re being driven back to the hotel in one of the vans. Alex studies his face from where he’s seated on the sofa, looking up into two worried eyes with a frown of his own. “You look tired,” he says. 

“So do you,” says Miles, matter-of-factly. “You’re white as a sheet. We must look like a couple of vampires.” 

Alex hums quietly, taking Miles’ hand and letting himself be pulled upright. “As long as we look like a couple,” he says absent-mindedly, and earns himself a groan and an eye-roll from Miles for it. Really, though, he’s pretty pleased with himself for that one. They say their goodbyes to the rest of the band, and Alex would be lying if he said the hugs and all the genuine excitement about what they have achieved bothered him, and then they’re off together. It’s really all over and done with. He still can’t quite believe it.

They smoke cigarettes on the balcony of their hotel room, Alex huddled up in one of Miles’ tracksuit jackets and Miles wearing a tank top, which, Alex thinks, is not enough clothing for Dublin on a cold autumn night by far.

Miles blows out the smoke in one long exhale, and looks out over the city. “Are you excited to go back home?” he wants to know, and Alex nods. “More excited to go to yours,” he admits. “Maybe my place _is_ a tad bit pretentious.” 

“A bit?” Miles shakes his head and huffs out a quiet laugh. He looks so tired. Worse even than he did that morning in the park. Alex turns around, leaning his hip against the balcony railing, and trails his fingers over Miles’ cheek, over the dark ring under his right eye. Miles stills under his touch, his lips twitching up into a smile. “Feels nice, that,” he murmurs, so Alex doesn’t stop. He steps closer, a concentrated frown on his face as he watches his own fingers trail over Miles’ jaw and down his neck, until his hand lands on his shoulder. He slips his fingers under Miles’ shirt, unsurprised by how cold he feels. He shakes his head. “That’s it. Let’s go inside,” he says, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray. Miles shrugs and follows him inside without protesting, sliding the door shut and closing the curtains behind them.

The bedside table lamps shed a dim light on the room, and Alex decides it’s the cosiest hotel room he’s been in thus far, although that might just have something to do with Miles also being there. He slips off his shoes and sits down on their bed, watching Miles move about the room. They haven’t even had dinner yet, he realises with a start. Miles hasn’t had anything to eat since before they left for the park.

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” he mutters, as he digs his phone out of his pocket and looks up the places that still deliver food at this hour. 

Miles gives him a blank look, finally donning a sweater. Good, Alex thinks. 

“Looking after me like this,” he clarifies. “Spending the entire day trying to keep me on my feet. I mean, it’s bad today, worse than usual – I realise that it won’t always be like this – but this? Me clinging to you like that? That isn’t healthy. It’s not exactly in your best interest to be here, is all I’m saying.” 

Miles shakes his head, and for a second Alex thinks he’s just going to ignore him. He’s secretly glad. But then Miles speaks up. “Not to blow me own trumpet or anything,” he says. “but I believe it’s in your best interest that I’m here right now. You’ve been on your own through all of this and it’s been months. Don’t tell me you’re going to deny yourself the possibility to be close to someone just because you think you’ll be a burden.” 

“I don’t want to end up being dependent on you. That, and I can see how exhausted you are.” Alex taps away on his phone as he speaks, removing himself from the conversation as much as he can. “We’re having curry for dinner, by the way.” 

Miles shakes his head, casting his gaze at the ceiling. “For someone so fucking clever you can be such an idiot,” he says. “I’ve known you for years, but I’ll never not be surprised by how hard you can make things on yourself. You needed a shoulder to cry on for the past twenty-four hours. So what? Did it hurt your pride, Al? Is that it? Wounded your ego, did it.” 

No. Yes. Of course it hurt his fucking pride. He hasn’t been able to function properly for months and along comes Miles, and all he wants to do is be close to him. It’s humiliating is what it is. “I don’t want to end up being dependent on you,” he repeats. “You can’t cure me. I’ll exhaust the hell out of you. Bloody look at yourself.” 

Miles halts by the foot of the bed and gives Alex a look. It’s not easy to make him angry, but his fists are balled and Alex can see how much effort it's taking him to stay calm. “You’re impossible,” Miles murmurs. “What if you would have been fine right now? What if I would have been in bed with a fever? Would you have left me to my own devices?” 

“That’s different.” 

“How is it different?” Miles stares at him, looking bewildered. “Tell me how it’s different. If I would have been ill, you’d have looked after me and if need be, you would have made me a doctor’s appointment. I know you and you can’t tell me that that’s not how it would have gone. Now, it’s not me, but it’s you who’s ill, so I’m looking after you. Like a good fucking boyfriend. And I’m making you a doctor’s appointment as soon as we land in LA.” 

“I’ve been clingy.” Alex spits out the word. 

Miles shrugs his shoulders, his eyes wide. _So fucking what_ , that gaze says. “You’re tactile,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Always have been. Even before we started going out, you were always touching me. ‘s just the way you are. That, and I’m not remotely surprised that touch helps you when you feel like this. Do you really think I’m bothered by it? I haven’t seen you in months. If I had it my way, I’d have my hands all over you right now.”

“It’s not healthy that I’m relying on you for comfort, is what I’m saying. You haven’t even been looking after yourself, just because I fucked up. I’m not ill. I’m just – ” He makes a vague gesture with his hand, tossing his phone onto the bed in the process. “I’m making you look after me. I’m relying on you. You shouldn’t be dealing with my problems, Miles, alright? I have to deal with them. It’s my head and I’m the one who let it get this far.”

Miles looks like he’s about to scream. “Is that what this is, then?” he asks. “Do you expect me to fix it all? Are you asking me to handle it all for you? To make it all go away? Perhaps I should pour you another fucking drink or two while we’re at it?” He really is angry now, and Alex watches him wearily. He’s too tired for this. They’re both too tired for this.

“No. Christ. That’s exactly what I don’t want. It’s just easier with you here. That’s all. I’m not asking for anything. I don't expect anything. ”

Miles gives him a pointed look. He takes a deep breath, calming himself down. “See. So we’re alright, then. You’re ill, you need some support, which I’ll happily give you, and we’re making you a doctor’s appointment first thing in LA. Just like we discussed earlier. That’s not unhealthy, Aly. Sounds more like progress if you ask me.” He falls silent for a moment, before adding: “Besides, you’re also keeping an eye out for me, ushering me inside like that and ordering us dinner and everything. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He gives Alex one last challenging look, raising his eyebrows. “Told you I wasn’t going to let you push me away again. I’m staying this time. Awfully sorry about it.”

Alex rolls his eyes, partly to rile Miles up and partly because Miles hasn’t eaten, hasn’t slept properly and hasn’t been looking after himself – all on Alex’ account. Miles doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he just turns around and puts on the kettle. “You’re opening the door when the food’s here,” he says. “I’m over this, and I’m planning on getting into bed as soon as my tea’s ready.”

Alex hums in agreement. He shimmies out of his trousers and replaces them with a pair of soft jogging bottoms. “I’m staying too, you know. Just to make that clear,” he murmurs, getting into bed and wrapping the duvet around himself. “Just don’t want to – well. ‘m not going to be a burden on you. I’m going to be working on this.” 

“I know.” Miles’ gaze softens. He hands him a cup of tea and gets into bed as well, wrapping long fingers around his own cup. “And I’m going to be right here,” he promises. “Just for support, yeah? No unhealthy dependencies. I’ll be honest with you, and you’ll be honest with me. Simple as that. You shouldn’t have been on your own through all this to begin with.” 

“You can’t blame anyone for that. I never told anyone. I wasn’t sure what was going on meself.” Alex turns onto his side, watching Miles through half open eyes. He already regrets ordering food, but it’s good that he has. He knows Miles. He knows how forgetful he gets at times, as a result of whatever he may be engrossed in at that moment, and Alex reckons that someone should look after him every once in a while, just a bit. Just to make sure Miles takes a break every once in a while.

Still, he groans when there’s a knock on their door, and rolls his eyes when Miles laughs quietly as he makes his way out of bed. Both exhausted, they eat in bed again, which is a bit of a dangerous endeavour with curry. Alex puts their meals in bowls from the tiny kitchenette and hands Miles his before getting in again as well, drawing his knees up to his chest under the duvet. The spicy food warms him up from the inside, and he enjoys it quietly, taking small bites and savouring the taste. Miles just wolves his portion down, not at all bothered by how spicy it is, and lies down on his back with a contented sigh once his bowl is empty. Alex chuckles. Miles still looks exhausted, but at least he looks happy rather than worried. That’s progress. Alex feels just about ready to fall asleep himself. Still, he takes the bowls into the kitchenette and washes them up. He also brushes his teeth, and takes off Miles’ jacket and the button-up he’s still wearing. He leaves the bracelet. It feels nice against his skin. It looks nice, too. Miles is just going to have to ask for it back. 

When he returns to the bed, Miles is busy taking off his own clothes, so he slides under the covers and watches, waiting for him to join him. And Miles does, slipping under the covers close enough for Alex to feel the heat radiate of his body. Miles casts a glance over his face. “You look like you feel at ease,” he murmurs. “Are you feeling better? You gave me a bit of a scare earlier.”

Alex just nods, stifling a yawn. He feels warm and full and comfortably tired. The last thing he wants to think about is his little breakdown from earlier. “ ‘m fine,” he promises. “I’m comfortable.” 

“Good,” Miles murmurs, shuffling closer and wrapping Alex in his arms. “So let’s finally get some proper sleep, hm? Not sure I like this whole vampire look we have going on.” 

“You always look good, babeh,” Alex mutters absent-mindedly, his exhaustion thickening his accent, making Miles smile. He turns in Miles’ embrace until he’s comfortable and presses a kiss to his chest. “ ‘s just that you need some sleep. So get some sleep. We can always take another flight home if we don’t feel like travelling all that way tomorrow.” 

Miles nods. “We’ll see. Sleep, first.” 

“Sleep first,” Alex agrees. He snakes a hand over Miles’ side, trailing his fingers down his back. “Missed you. And – just to be honest here, I would have had a very hard time without you these past couple of days. So thank you.” 

“No need for that,” Miles mutters. He’s already half asleep. “You’re my Aly. Wasn’t going to leave you to your own devices.” 

Alex rolls his eyes, but he can’t help a smile. “Alright,” he mutters. “I think it’s high time you went to sleep. Night, love.” 

Miles doesn’t reply. His breathing evens out, and Alex kisses his chest again. He makes a mental note to cancel their flight in the morning. They’ll fly back the day after, once Alex has taken Miles out for a proper dinner, and perhaps after another, less dramatic attempt at taking a walk in the park. Or maybe just an entire day in bed. Alex rubs gentle circles into Miles’ back, on the verge of falling asleep himself. Going back to LA is daunting for more reasons than one, but he’s determined not to blow it this time. Not his last chance with Miles and not the opportunity to get proper help. It’s scary, but at this point, it’s also very necessary. He can’t go on like this. That, and he owes it to Miles to give this a proper shot. If it’s not going to be just Alex from now on – if it’s really going to be the two of them, living together, at least for a while, at Miles’ place – Alex doesn’t want to make that harder on Miles than it has to be. It’s scary, but he’s hopeful. There’ll be no tour to keep up with, no interviews, no TV or radio appearances. Perhaps they should go on holiday, just the two of them. Or maybe going back to Sheffield for a while would be a good idea. Alex smiles to himself. He hasn’t been very hopeful at all lately, simply because he hasn't been sure of how to take any steps to combat the dark haze he’s been living in, but Miles basically just told him what to do, word for word. Maybe, once he’s taken the first step to see a doctor, it will get easier. It can’t exactly get any worse. 

It’s time for a break. Alex might not be very good at taking breaks and he might not be very talented when it comes to taking it easy, but sometimes you just have to take a minute and breathe - or cuddle up with someone you adore to no end. It doesn't fix things, but it makes them a hell of a lot more bearable. Alex wraps his fingers around the bracelet on his wrist absent-mindedly, an squeezes. He's going to have to make an effort to get better, he knows that, but it all seems much more managable now that Miles has made it clear to him that seeing a doctor about this would probably be for the best. Alex is fine with whatever, at this point. The tour is over and so is everything else. He has no more obligations, no more appointments that he should keep. It's just him and Miles, and that prospect calms him down like nothing else. He falls asleep to the sound of Miles' soft snores, safely wrapped in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> (I'm not sure I'm done writing about these two just yet, so if you have any prompts or requests, please just let me know! :) I don’t think Ao3 has a messaging system (correct me if I’m wrong), but feel free to leave a comment below or to message me on my old Tumblr page @memoiriarty.)


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